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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606113">beetroot soup</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbelasagnax/pseuds/dontbelasagnax'>dontbelasagnax</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Will Graham, First Kiss, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sharing a Bed, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter in Cuba, mentions of tea cups, they also kill and eat people, they're soft and in love, this is a hannibal fic lol what did you expect</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:26:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,574</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbelasagnax/pseuds/dontbelasagnax</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bedelia was sitting at one end of the table when Will entered the room, her decorated leg on a platter in his hands. She'd been dressed elegantly and table set accordingly. Likely Chiyoh's work, Will presumed. "Pleased to see you could join us this evening, Doctor Du Maurier," he said. The roast was the centerpiece. It looked grand in the middle of the table.</p><p>    "The pleasure is all yours, it seems."</p><p>    He didn't hide his smile at her scathing response. "I'll be right back."</p><p>[Or: Will and Hannibal begin their new lives post fall]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>227</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>beetroot soup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Woohoo! This is my first Hannibal fic! I had absolutely no control over Hannibal and Will while writing this.... they just did whatever they wanted and this happened lol</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He remembered a collision with the water. Like a body against a frozen lake, only the ice gave way. The cold burned and permeated his every pore and cell. He clutched onto Hannibal and accepted it. Dug his fingers into the man's back. Accepted the fire in his lungs as the air in his body was replaced with the ocean. The darkness clouding his vision was a comfort. He welcomed it. The heat and cold dissolved into pins and needles. His eyes fluttered, stinging, trying to catch one last glimpse of Hannibal before the dark consumed him. His vision faded into nothingness. </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>He gasped. Then retched and retched. Lungs burning, still, as water poured from his mouth. Hands stroked his hair.</p><p>    "<em>No,</em>" he thought.</p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>He woke to a queasy stomach and familiar swaying. The lights were dim but he could tell he was in a bed. A bed meant for two. The room was small, a countertop with kitchen appliances on one side and a sofa on the other. There were no windows, only two doors—one with stairs leading up to it.</p><p>    A boat then, Will concluded. He could hear it now, the sloshing of waves rocking the vessel. The steady thrum of an engine. </p><p>    He should have felt alarmed waking up in an unfamiliar space, scared even. He didn't. </p><p>    Footsteps made their way towards him. The door creaked open and light flooded inside the cabin. Will didn't have to look up to know it was Hannibal.</p><p>    "Will, you're awake." Hannibal sounded… different. Relieved almost. Will looked up.</p><p>    He made his way down the stairs, posture as straight as ever, despite the hand clutching his side. Gone were the bloodied clothes. Hannibal had changed into a simple button up and slacks. </p><p>    Will reached up, felt his own face. A bandage. A hot burst of shame rushed through him. He'd pushed them off a cliff, battered and bruised, and left Hannibal to pick up the pieces on his own. </p><p>    Hannibal sat at the foot of the bed. The distance felt like a chasm. "How do you feel?"</p><p>    Will scoffed. His throat was made of sandpaper. "Like I jumped off a cliff." The deep wound is his mouth stung. His lungs screamed at him.</p><p>    Hannibal stared at him. Searching. As if he looked hard enough he'd find answers. </p><p>    Will felt translucent. Like the belly of a cochranella nola—a glass frog.</p><p>    "Why?" He said it so neutrally, so calmly. Like Will hadn't tried to kill them both. </p><p>    Will looked anywhere but at Hannibal.</p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>"When we were young, Mischa and I would take a rowboat to the nearby lake." Hannibal stood at the counter, stirring a pot over the hotplate. Will had watched as Hannibal expertly chopped and minced his ingredients before tossing them into the pot and seasoned to taste. "Like overexcited puppies, we'd sneak away into the night, paddle to the middle of the lake. We'd trade stories. Some real. Some so fantastical only children could dream of." He moved away from the soup, let it simmer. "One night it stormed. The boat turned over as the waters grew choppy. I don't remember much. I knew I had to get Mischa to shore. She couldn't swim yet." He took two bowls from the cupboard above and set them on the counter. "My mother found us, sodden, looking like cats stuck in the rain. She lit a fire for us, sent us disapproving looks and made soup." Turning back to the pot, Hannibal switched the hotplate off and spooned the steaming soup into the bowls. A sprinkle of parsley and he beckoned Will to join him. "Come eat." Hannibal handed him a bowl. The soup was bright red. They sat on the sofa, no table in sight. It would likely be the only time Will would ever see Hannibal eat anywhere other than a table. "Burokėlių sriuba, beetroot soup. What my mother made us." It was oddly… sentimental. "Careful with your mouth, it's hot."</p><p>    Will stared into the bowl. The red was captivating. "Thank you," he murmured. He was thanking Hannibal for much more than soup. </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Later, Will followed Hannibal upstairs, into the enclosed cockpit. The light of the day had dwindled, the sun low on the horizon. There was nothing but water as far as the eye could see. </p><p>    He took his gaze away from windows and surveyed the room. The walls were white and floors light wood. Obvious color palette for what must have been a small, unassuming yacht. A double take was prompted for, at the leather seating area, slumped over with an IV in her arm, sat Bedelia Du Maurier. </p><p>    He cocked a brow at Hannibal, who simply led him to the wheelhouse with a hand on his back. </p><p>    Chiyoh sat at the helm, not bothering to look up at the sound of their footsteps. Her appearance was only to be expected. </p><p>    Will and Hannibal sat beside one another on a leather seat.</p><p>    It didn't take an active imagination, such as Will's, to piece together the events following their fall. </p><p>    "It will be another day till we reach our destination," said Hannibal.</p><p>    It didn't cross Will's mind to ask what their destination was. </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>The open expanse of the water called to him. Pulled at him. He glanced down to his hands on the railing. His wedding band glinted red in light of the sunset. He twisted and pulled at the ring until it came off. It rested heavy in the palm of his hand. </p><p>    He watched it fall into the rocky waves that followed the yacht.</p><p>    That chapter of his life had ended. </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Will had never seen Hannibal sleep before. </p><p>    In the years he'd known Hannibal, he was aware the man must have slept—he was human after all (some would argue <em> 'barely' </em>). He just never put too much thought into it. </p><p>    In the dark of the cabin, Will stared at Hannibal's sleeping form. He lay on his side, under the heavy duvet, only a foot away. His breathing was soft, even, and deep. Will wouldn't think it possible but he looked innocent, face smoothed over with sleep. It was as if he had not a care in the world. Will longed to reach over and touch that oddly cherubic face, feel the peace radiating from within. Hannibal was vulnerable like this. Such vulnerability made Will want to pull him into his arms. Protect him.</p><p>    Hannibal made a soft snuffling sound and his hand jerked from under the covers, clutching the sheets. </p><p>    Will reached out, placed his hand beside Hannibal's. He smiled. </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Under the light of a full moon, Will could see land rapidly approaching. It broke the monotony of the sparkling waters. As they neared a dock, Hannibal stood, supposedly to moor the boat.</p><p>    Will stopped him with a hand to the center of his chest. "Let me," he said. "You can toss me the spring line and I'll do the rest." It would be unwise to let Hannibal do all the work while recovering from a gunshot wound. </p><p>    Hannibal considered him for a moment before nodding. </p><p>    Will made his way down to the swim platform of the yacht. He slipped into the water. It felt nothing like the chilly depths of the Atlantic. Too warm and tropical. He swam until he found a ladder up to the dock. His bandages were wet and heavy, along with his clothing, as he emerged from the water. He made note of the sharp pain radiating from his shoulder and moved on. </p><p>    Hannibal threw him the spring line and Will got to work securing it to the dock.</p><p>    Will whistled when he was certain the knot would hold. Hannibal met him on the dock, a backpack slung over his shoulder. Will guiltily delighted in the downturn of Hannibal's lips and the furrow of his brow when he said, "You're bleeding, Will."</p><p>    "Am I?"</p><p>    "I can smell it on you." Of course. </p><p>    Chiyoh joined them with Bedelia's arm slung over her shoulder and a hand holding up the IV. "I'll drive," she said, walking to an SUV that was conveniently parked at the end of the dock. Hannibal and Will could only follow her. </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal replaced Will's sodden bandages as Chiyoh drove up winding roads. Will revelled in the feeling of Hannibal's hands on him. The firm touch to turn his head. The way he applied only the necessary amount of pressure to adhere the bandage to his face. Nothing more. Hannibal's palms flat on his bare chest to smooth over the larger bandage. It was too much. And not enough. </p><p>    Will diverted his attention to the front of the vehicle. The shadow of Bedelia's lax form in the passenger seat. He wondered if the IV bag currently dripping into the cannula was a sedative or something to make her taste better. Not that it mattered. He trusted Hannibal's artistry.</p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>The sun had steadily made its way high into the sky by the time the car stopped. Will got out of the car without questioning if they'd reached their destination. He knew they had. The red dirt road Chiyoh had been dutifully following ended at an off white, two story home. It had a terracotta roof and windows framed by pillars. For miles it had only been lush green grasses and trees. Trust Hannibal to find such a lavish house in the middle of nowhere. Speaking of the middle of nowhere…</p><p>    "Where are we?" asked Will. </p><p>    Hannibal strode past him, key in hand. "Cuba."  </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Will trailed his fingers over the dark wood furnishings of the house. The interior was nothing ornate. Simplicity was refreshing and could easily be elevated with Hannibal's unique eye for decor. </p><p>    Natural light trickled in as Hannibal pushed aside heavy drapes. Dust particles danced in the golden glow. Chiyoh dragged Bedelia somewhere down the hall. Probably a bedroom. </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Will found himself walking outside at the sound of an engine turning over. Chiyoh was in the driver's seat of the SUV, windows rolled down. </p><p>    She leveled him with a look of poorly disguised distaste. "Are you getting in? Make a decision." </p><p>    What harm could it do to join her?</p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>"You're kidding, right?" They were on a beach now, Chiyoh pushing a wheelbarrow through the sand. Will stared incredulously at the note in his hands, written in Hannibal's unmistakably loopy scrawl.</p><p>    "No." </p><p>    "What does he need 'an abundance of large smooth rocks' for?"</p><p>    "Perhaps he's come to his senses and decided to end your life with one."</p><p>    "Somehow I doubt that's his style."</p><p>    "Pity."</p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal and Will sat on the steps of the back porch and watched Chiyoh. Under Hannibal's directions, she dug a hole and filled it with kindling. The rocks she and Will collected, along with lava rocks Hannibal provided, were then stacked on top. </p><p>    It made an odd sight, the small formation in a yard of green grasses and palms. </p><p>    She wiped the sweat from her brow and walked up the steps, past them. </p><p>    The air felt thick and electric with the knowledge of what would come next. Anticipation settled warm in the pits of Will's belly. </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>The basement of the house was chilled but the blood in Will's veins ran hot and fast. </p><p>    Unconscious, undoubtedly due to anesthesia, Bedelia lied strapped to a metal table in the center of the room. Hannibal circled her like a shark would its prey.</p><p>    Will admired the vision before him. A single LED shone down upon the shark and his captive. Hannibal, donning an apron, was a sight to behold in his element. He picked up his chosen tool. A bone saw. It gleamed under the spotlight. In peak health, Will imagined a cleaver would be Hannibal's preferred implement. He could see the clean cut Hannibal would make with one heavy swing of his arm. The sound of metal meeting metal, after slicing through muscle and bone, would sing.</p><p>    "I'd offer to make the first cut," Will spoke into the silence, "but I'm afraid the fentanyl is losing its effect."</p><p>    Hannibal's gaze upon him was loaded. Desire bubbled in the shark's eyes. </p><p>    The saw whirred. </p><p>    The blood spatter upon Will's skin felt like elation. </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal dressed Bedelia's wound. A leg wrapped in banana and ti leaves roasted in the inu. </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal delicately unwrapped the present beneath the leaves. The roast smelled exquisite. Will sipped his wine and watched Hannibal assemble the dish in the only way the man knew how: artistically and with surgical precision. He sliced fresh ti leaves into long strips. Then, he did something unexpected. "Will, lend me a hand, would you?"</p><p>    Will blinked and set his glass down on the island countertop. He leaned against Hannibal's side. It felt bold. Then again, he was a new man. "Where do you want me?" A question to answer a question.</p><p>    "Bring the roast here, please." </p><p>    Will did as he asked, picking up the roast from it's blanket of leaves. The juices bled onto his hands. </p><p>    Hannibal dragged his finger across the ti leaves he'd cut. "Place it here." </p><p>    There was no doubt in Will's mind that Hannibal could do this all himself. Will stepped in again, shoulder bumping against Hannibal's, and gently set the leg down. "Now?"</p><p>    "I want you to pull the strips up around the roast. I will pin them in place." Hannibal's voice was pitched low. </p><p>    Will wanted to crawl into Hannibal's chest and feel that voice vibrate around him. He equally wanted to flee, put space between himself and this intimacy. He swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and pulled a leaf up and around the cooked leg. </p><p>    Hannibal placed his hands over Wills, pinning the leaf in place. </p><p>    Will held his breath. Hannibal's hands were smooth and warm. They just barely grazed Will's own but the touch was enough to have his heart racing. </p><p>    "There," said Hannibal. "Next, please."</p><p>    Will released his breath and moved onto the next leaf. "Will Chiyoh be joining us for dinner?"</p><p>    "No, she has an obligation elsewhere." He glanced sideways at Will, pinning the next leaf. "This meal would be best served with limited company, don't you think?"</p><p>    "I'd hoped so." He let the implication of his words hang heavy in the air. He pulled another leaf around the roast.</p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Bedelia was sitting at one end of the table when Will entered the room, her decorated leg on a platter in his hands. She'd been dressed elegantly and table set accordingly. Likely Chiyoh's work, Will presumed. "Pleased to see you could join us this evening, Doctor Du Maurier," he said. The roast was the centerpiece. It looked grand in the middle of the table.</p><p>    "The pleasure is all yours, it seems."</p><p>    He didn't hide his smile at her scathing response. "I'll be right back."</p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Will returned to the kitchen and watched as Hannibal plated the oysters for their guest. A new bottle of wine was on the counter. </p><p>    "All ready?" asked Will. He picked up the bottle and read the label. He had no doubt it was worth thousands of dollars. </p><p>    Hannibal allowed himself a small smile. "Yes, after you."</p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Will noticed the absence of a certain utensil the moment he and Hannibal entered the dining room. </p><p>    "I'd recommend putting the oyster fork back, Bedelia." He sat in the seat closest to her. "I'd hate to see what would happen to your beautiful dress if I'm forced to use the steak knife on your throat."</p><p>    Hannibal stalked her way. She closed her eyes and shuddered. "Is that true, Doctor Du Maurier?" </p><p>    Mouth set in a grim line, Bedelia placed the fork back on the table. </p><p>    An amused grin settled on Hannibal's face. "You never fail to amaze me, Will." He grasped Will's shoulder on his way back to the head of the table. He took his seat. "Kālua roasted leg. Would you do us the honor?" Hannibal passed Will the steak knife. </p><p>    Will licked his lips. "Of course." The meat was tender and practically slid off the bone as he cut into it. </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Will stood in the doorway and watched as Hannibal sat on the bed, a queen, and unlaced his shoes. </p><p>    "Chiyoh and Doctor Du Maurier are occupying the other bedrooms. I presumed you and I would share."</p><p>    "Don't hog the blankets," said Will before he stepped into the room to disrobe. </p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>"You asked why." The room was pitch black. He couldn't see Hannibal. Though they'd already said goodnight and tucked themselves into bed, he knew the man wasn't asleep. He heard the sheets rustle and felt the bed shake. Hannibal had turned on his side. Facing Will. He had Hannibal's undivided attention. "I decided I couldn't live without you. So I chose to kill us both. I chose <em> you</em>."</p><p>    He didn't know what he hoped to achieve by telling Hannibal this. Maybe it was the promise of the truth. No more lies. No more manipulations. No more games. He was showing all his cards. </p><p>    Will felt a warm hand settle on his cheek. He closed his eyes. Hannibal had placed all his cards, face up, on the table. </p><p>    Will grasped Hannibal's wrist and leaned into the hand.</p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Will awoke to an empty bed and the bitter smell of coffee. Voices rising with heat met his ears as he stretched in the silky sheets. The bed was too warm for him to even entertain the idea of getting up. He listened instead. He heard Chiyoh's voice, aggravated and harsh. </p><p>    "You're not yourself around him," she said. </p><p>    Hannibal, calm and collected as ever, replied, "Is that so?" Will could hear the clinking of metal against porcelain. He imagined Hannibal stirring his coffee at the dining table, Chiyoh a shadowing presence standing next to him.</p><p>    "He's muddied the waters of your mind. Driven you to do things you'd otherwise never dare. He's betrayed you time and time again and yet you come running back every time."</p><p>    "And so does he."</p><p>    She scoffed and made no attempt to hide the disdain in her voice. "I was wrong. He's not your nakama, he's your <em> shujin.</em>"</p><p>    "Is that so bad?"</p><p>    "He's not good for you. I can't stand by and watch him drown you again."</p><p>    "Then don't." </p><p>    The last thing Will heard before sleep claimed him were footsteps making their way upstairs.</p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>The house was silent when Will came downstairs for breakfast. He didn't have to look to know there were two newly vacant bedrooms. It was too bad the opportunity to kill Bedelia himself was taken away from him. He had been looking forward to it. </p><p>    "What will become of her?" he asked as Hannibal set down a plate of crepes, eggs, and sausage before him.</p><p>    Hannibal set his own plate on the table and took a seat. "Chiyoh will take her back home."</p><p>    Will didn't ask if that home was Bedelia's or the Lecter Estate.</p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>Will found Hannibal in the sitting room later that day, shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. He was seated on a loveseat, tablet in his lap. </p><p>    Will hung back in the doorway. Hannibal, as he was in this moment, was a far cry from the person suit he'd worn for years. Will discovered he liked this version of Hannibal. The one with the layers peeled back. The one that saw Will and was seen in return. He entered the room and sunk onto the sofa beside Hannibal. </p><p>    "What are you reading?"</p><p>    "Freddie Lounds' latest article. It seems Dolarhyde has been found, alongside the video we left behind."</p><p>    He hummed. "I'd forgotten about that."</p><p>    "It's worked in our favor. Ms. Lounds says the FBI presumes us dead."</p><p>    "What does Ms. Lounds think?"</p><p>    "She entertains the idea we're somewhere in Europe recovering from our injuries."</p><p>    "Is she next on the menu?"</p><p>    "In time."</p><p> </p><p>~•~◇~•~</p><p> </p><p>There were three bedrooms and yet they still shared. The dark was a comfort in their bed. A space they could speak freely.</p><p>    Will stared at the space he knew Hannibal occupied. He knew he was there. They remained on their own sides. Never meeting in the middle. It's not what he wanted.</p><p>    "What do you want?" Will found himself asking. </p><p>    "I want for nothing."</p><p>    "I don't believe you." </p><p>    "I have everything I could ever ask for, Will." </p><p>    "There's something you feel you can't ask for." The teacup had been glued back together again and Hannibal was afraid he would break it if he touched it. What was the purpose of gluing the broken remains back together if it were never to be used again? "I see you, Hannibal. When will you see me?"</p><p>    Hannibal took a shaky breath. "I can't ask for more."</p><p>    Will leaned over to the bedside table, yanked the cord until the lamp turned on. He rolled over and met Hannibal's eyes with his own. "Then ask me what I want."</p><p>    Hannibal's voice was nothing more than a croak when he said, "What do you want, Will?"</p><p>    "I want <em> more.</em>"</p><p>    They met in the middle. Lips collided. A shuddering breath and Hannibal's tongue was licking into Will's mouth. Will moaned. Hands grasped for purchase, clutching at bruised skin, ending up tangled in hair.</p><p>    They pulled away, breathing heavy, lips swollen. Will couldn't resist leaning in to tug Hannibal's bottom lip between his teeth. Hannibal groaned. Will was pulled into another searing kiss. </p><p>    "Is this what you wanted?" Hannibal asked, breaking away to plant open mouthed kisses down Will's neck.</p><p>    Will smiled then. And he knew his answer would never change. "<em>More,</em>" he said.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading!! Please consider leaving a kudo and/or comment if you enjoyed thsi story!! I horde every comment I get and admire them all, whether you leave an emoji or an essay! I'd love to hear what y'all think of this fic ❤❤</p></blockquote></div></div>
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